Chewing Gum For the Eyes: This Show Was Filmed In Front Of A Pseudo Audience
Wikipedia explains quantum entanglement as: "a quantum mechanical phenomenon which the quantum states of two or more objects are somehow linked together so intimately that one object cannot be adequately described without full mention of its counterpart — even though the individual objects may be spatially separated. This interconnection leads to correlations between observable physical properties of remote systems."
Albert Einstein described quantum entanglement as: "spooky action at a distance".
Dean Stockwell (who played Al, on the 1989-93 series "Quantum Leap"): "You're part of a time travel experiment that went a little ca-ca."
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(Nearly) A year without television.
"Good for you!"
"I couldn't live without cable!"
"Wait, you mean you haven't seen that commercial …"
"No television!?"
"What?"
That's what I've been hearing over (nearly) a year, now without cable.
"But wait, you have a television …You don't need cable, just get local. What? You don't want local either?"
Nope. No cable. Nope. No local.
"Go green!"
"It's nice to see someone keeping up with the punk 'kill your television' aesthetic!"
Truth be told, the sole reason I had cable in my former apartment was due to the fact that the ever faithful employees at Comcast never disconnected the former tenant's. Actually, they finally did disconnect "my" service …A full week before my move.
As for local, I apologize for the embarrassing simplicity of my explanation. In order to hook up local, I'd have to run a cord across my living room …I have four cats. Yep, that's what it comes down to. No thanks.
Sure, I miss CSPAN, who wouldn't? There are times I realize what a fantastic distraction television is …The urge to numb my brain …However, I refuse to fork over any money and even more so I'm not even going to begin the trials and tribulations of a lengthy cord and my cats' need to well, chew.
And then I take in consideration: Who needs a sitcom? Lemme tell you about my week!
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As a toddler, in Houston, TX …I remember sitting in front of our small tube television. My skin tanned from quality sandbox time, clad in a swimsuit, an orange sherbet push-up in hand …and dripping from my chin, sticky sweet in my hair.
"Savvvvvvve yooooooou monnnnnney!"
Ooo, it's on! My favorite commercial! I'd quickly hold out my hand, as though holding a fan of dollar bills (a dollar is a lot of money for a child) …"Savvvvvve yooooooooooou monnnnnnney!" I'd gleefully repeat back to the man with Ken-doll hair, on screen.
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It was Friday, I had spent my morning medicating cats and clocked out at 3PM. The telltale signs were all there: it was muggy, the bruised sky was moving by fast. It was going to rain.
After debating train and bus time, I decided it best to be out the door by 730PM. That gave me plenty of time to do a quick apartment clean, shower, powder my nose, practice walking in my new heels (which I did while washing a quick load of laundry, in my building's basement) and slip into my dress for the evening's event …which was located in the west Loop.
I grabbed my umbrella, "just in case," gave myself a look over in the mirror (because I do that …I also secretly question the width of my hair), grabbed a book for the ride and headed out … I congratulated myself for safely making it down the three flights of spiraled stairs to the courtyard.
I open the gate: TYPHOON!
Rain from the left, rain from the right, I quickly tucked my dress between my knees, my umbrella turned inside out the moment I foolishly opened it.
For those of you have been reading this "blog," over the past couple of years …You're aware of my feelings when it comes to cabs. They usually go something like this: "Don't hit me, don't hit me, don't hit me. Going to O'Hare? Going to Union? Nope. No. I'm not taking a cab."
I hailed the cab within seconds. Wet splotches across my dress, my hair surprisingly holding together, my bag completely soaked.
"847 W. Jackson. Yeah, it's nuts out there."
There's a reason Batman is filmed in Chicago. My cab driver seemed to be under the impression that he was not only in the sequel to the sequel to the sequel but he had in fact taken the lead. We're hydroplaning up Lake Shore in record time. It's barely 745PM. I guess I'm going to be early …if I survive.
I start playing the silent game of "Please don't do that. Please don't do that. Please …I have a Mother who loves me. Put down your phone," as Cabman starts sending/receiving texts on his phone …Meanwhile, I can barely see the city through the flood, whizzing by my window.
We turn off Lake Shore and start darting through the grid that is the Loop. Over this bridge, under this pass, take a left, a right, zig here, zag there. I try to divert what last moments of free thought ("Amanda ate all her strained peaches and she moved her big toe a quarter of a centimeter to the left, today, doctor") to my attire, my hair and my now soggy book (just add water). Such in-depth notions before Cabman kills us both.
Suddenly, both back windows start to roll …completely …down.
Cabman: "How you feeling? You look dehydrated!"
Me: [nervous laughter/the synapse of shock starting to flare] "Oo no! I'm quite hydrated! Ha-ha-ha …I'm just going to roll this up now, OK? Thanks though!"
We idly stop at a stop sign, a homeless Vietnam vet (according to his sign) thrusts a cup in my open windowed direction.
And off we go again.
847 W. Jackson. We pull up. Record time. I begrudgingly pay (and included an even more so begrudged tip) and reach for the door's handle. Nothing. I pull again. Nope. I silently begin to mindfully will the door open. A woman walks by. I tap at the window.
Woman: "Hey! Why won't you let this girl out!?"
She springs me free and I firmly plant my heels into the pavement. I successfully managed to stay both dry (yet hydrated) and vertical for the rest of my evening.
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My Mother taught aerobics as a hobby shortly after Matthew was born. For the longest time she taught Monday and Wednesday nights, 630-8PM. She'd kiss my brother, my Father and myself 'good-bye,' dressed in spandex and making sure she had the latest Toni Braxton c-single, in her bag.
Monday nights, Fresh Prince of Bel-Air came on at 8PM/Eastern. What sort of crazy hijinx would Carlton and Will get into tonight?
Monday nights also served as family pedi/mani night. My anal retentive Father (I assure you that reads rather sweetly in my head) would take it upon himself to make sure Matthew and I were the only kids in elementary to never suffer a hangnail. We'd sit there on the sofa, watching Will Smith hitch a ride from a cab that had a license plate that read "FRESH" and dice in the mirror …While my Father clipped our nails and scolded us for biting them.
Television is a great bonding experience between families.
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"You are wonderful."
That's what he said over brunch before we parted ways.
I stayed behind for a few minutes, opting to get a cup of coffee, a vegan cookie to go and chat with my friends Scott and Jesse, who were working.
It was a typical spring Saturday, albeit a bit cold and windy. My hair was down and I feared hitting others as I walked over to a nearby bench on the generally hectic stretch of Clark St. I dialed my Mother's number and we talked until I found myself back on my feet.
I wasn't sure what to do with the rest of my day. I knew if I headed back to my apartment, I'd just think and I didn't want to waste a perfectly fine day-off with such an annoying habit.
I started walking up Clark, the wind shuffling me forward, my hair masking my sunglasses, keeping an ear out for any sudden honking or a good Samaritan yelling "Watch out!".
That's when I walked smack dab into a longtime friend. Longtime seeing that we've known each other for a handful of years. A friend because we attempted dating at the beginning of the handful and make a point to hang out a few times a year. The modern day friendship.
After more coffee and walking throughout the neighborhood, we decided to grab a drink at a favorite spot, nearby, known for their unpretentious setting, a 10 cent historical tour and stellar jukebox selection (enough so that I can freely use the term 'stellar' without a hint of sarcasm).
There were two other people seated at the bar, Luke and I took a seat at a small table, drinks in hand. We were debating the usage of air quotes and I successfully managed to air quote the term air quote. He told me about the drawing class he had just come from ("We're all basically drawing 'WANTED' posters") and his boss's emoticon habits (the same boss that shares a name with a rail hoppin' forefather of folk music).
I put my morning's events on "delay" and was happy to be in good company, familiar company, fellow air quoting company.
In the time it takes to snap your fingers …Go ahead, feel free to do so for reference sake …Luke and I found ourselves elbow to elbow with zombies.
As though a clown car sat out front and had opened it's door, zombies started piling in (still with me?). Big, small, fake flesh wounds, green face paint …and packed in for some swill.
It then occurred to me that it was Saturday, the "annual zombie pub crawl," Saturday. My calendar had somehow neglected to include this (it does however highlight "National Dog Bite Awareness Week").
Luke and I looked at each other from across our dwindling space. My shoulders began to slump forward to make room for the bloody elbows and elaborate costuming making a beeline for my face. Luke reached over to a nearby zombie and asked "Hey, where are you guys going next?"
In a rather uncharismatic exuberant zombie fashion, the girl replied "CHARLIE'S ALE HOUSE!"
Luke [to me] "Do you want to go to the Hopleaf?"
Me: "Yes."
Amanda Jordyn, this is your life.
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Every year, Matthew and I would get to pick out a new comforter. My choices ranged from Thundercats to the Care Bears and the Little Mermaid (Yep). Matthew opted for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, X-Men and Lion King.
Every Saturday morning and certain mornings throughout the summer, Matthew and I would wake up in time for cartoons.
We'd sit there, on the living room sofa, wrapped in our respective comforters, a bowl of cereal in our laps. I was never one to put milk on my cereal and I remember using the term "muddles," a lot to explain this.
"But the milk just muddles the cereal's flavor."
I was a yenta in training.
For years, this was my brother and I's routine. Eventually, the trademarked themes of our comforters would fade, we'd opt for more solid/neutral …more "mature" tones. By that time, we also each had a television in our bedrooms and were beginning to realize the joys of sleeping in.
This would mark the beginning of my brother and I growing apart (for the usual teenage duration) and the end of cartoons.
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Last Sunday came and went. I had a somewhat abusive caller call for a spay/neuter appointment. A story that by this time I've had repeat so many times that it's become redundant, suffice to say:
-No, you cannot bring your cat in a produce box (And no, I don't care if there are holes in it).
-Even assholes name their cats "Snowball".
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My Mother's all-time favorite show is/was Friends (Yes, I had my money on the OJ Simpson trial or Dallas too).
To this day, come Thursday evenings 8-830PM, it's programmed to magically pop into my head "Oo, Friends should be on …Where's my Mother?"
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I went into work Monday morning, throwing myself into work and my need for distraction.
It was raining and I was debating what state I'd find my decklet plants, when I clocked out at 3PM …Katie walked into the clinic and I followed her out to the front foyer. There stood a women, her hooded sweatshirt tied tightly around her grimacing face. At first, I debated whether or not her face was so obscured due to the damp drawstrings being tied too tightly …It then occurred to me that she was crying. Sobbing. In her arms she held a large tan canvas bag.
Her 18 yr old cat, Smitty was dying and she needed help. Before I had time to really decipher this information as she mouthed the words …Her crying was near hysterics, the type of hysterics that makes one lose their voice and gum their words …She thrust the canvas bag into my arms.
There he was, Smitty …He was starting to grow cold but his green eyes still flashed signs of recognition, as he wavered back and forth.
Smitty and I hung out for a little while, while it was decided that we'd euthanize him and give his remains back to the woman, to bury in her backyard.
I sat there on the wet foyer floor, holding this canvas bag, "Hi Smitty …"
"You are wonderful"/zombies/"go fuck yourself"/Primo's tumors/rent due/stomach flu/"You look dehydrated"
…And now Smitty.
Dear Self,
This is not about you. Do not make this about you. Do not cry. Do not choke up. Just do your job. Insert mental file of comforting things to say.
Crap.
While Smitty went to sleep, I sat with his owner, her fingers digging into my arm as she shared stories of the Smitty she had known for the past 18 yrs.
Smitty was closest to one of her other cats, Goldie. I commented that "Smitty and Goldie," sounded like "quite the team. Sort of like Cagney + Lacey." …The woman fortunately was able to choke out a laugh, as she wiped her nose and patted her eyes.
I told her that she had done the right thing.
She told me that she wasn't sure. That it's lonely in this world. That she just needed someone to listen. Someone to care. She asked my name and told me that she'd remember it because it's the same as her neighbor's. I listened. Putting on my best poker face. I silently tried to will her to please, just please stop crying. I know it's lonely. Please don't cry.
She kept talking about loneliness. I kept listening. I caught myself choking up briefly but quickly reminded myself: This is not about you.
Smitty was returned in a cardboard box …The woman slipped him back into the canvas bag. I held the door and asked if I could hug her. For some reason I always feel the need to ask ahead of time …It seems like an appropriate question after years of unsolicited hugs from strangers and acquaintances alike.
Her fingers dug into my back. It was still raining when she left.
I walked towards the backdoor. I stood out in the rain.
Hello, hello? Can I have some lemons? I'd like to make some lemonade.
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I've been writing the above for the better half of the past week …As of today, I have yet to step into another cab (I opted for the bus, last Friday night), no one has told me to fuck myself (or at least to my face or over the phone), cats continue to come/go/come again at work and I just sent Luke a text asking if I should get a map for the upcoming "Big Wheel Biker," pub crawl.
Last night, I brushed my teeth/washed my face …Content and ready to partake in a bit of escapism, some mindless fluff before sleep arrived, I turned on my television and put a DVD in (one that I had been neglecting to watch for the past few days). I pulled my throw closer to my chin, adjusted my pillow and hit "play".
"Le Scaphandre et le Papillon
Un film de Julian Schnabel"
Crap. I forgot that it's in French.
Org. Post: Friday, May 23, 2008
Whatever I Am: Messages From My Mother
May 9th, 438PM
Hello my darling daughter, I love you and I miss you …I'm not ignoring you, I've just been busy the last couple of days …I'm doing a garage sale and it's just going to be a one day thing …And I had to pay 20 bucks for that darn ad and I hated it! It kills me to do that! But that's how much they are …They start at 20 bucks at Midland Daily News and I thought the best way to sell my stuff is to advertise it so we'll see how it goes. I put in the ad, I put "Great sale! Everything under $3," [laughter] …I thought that might get them through the door. We'll see just how well I do. But I've been just so busy cleaning out CRAP. You wouldn't believe all of the CRAP. Downstairs in that basement …Old dishes, just sets of dishes that I've had and glasses and CRAP. So I'll see if I sell them. But I had to kind of tap into your brother when he came home today to help me lug the tables out from the little shed, that I use to put the stuff on, you know. So I've been really busy. I'm not ignoring you, honey. I'm thinking about you and I miss you! Hope you're doing fine. If I don't get a chance to talk with this evening …Well the sale is tomorrow, gotta get stuff together. Have a great day and weekend. It's Mothers' Day and I'm celebrating! I have the two best children in the world! I love my babies! They are the best! I'm proud of you! Love you! Bye baby!
May 18th, 210PM
Hi honey, I'm thinking about ya! I know you're at work …I was just driving back from Saginaw. I had to pay on the consumers bill. I'm thinking about you. I just passed the Saginaw mall. God, I can't believe how many times trip to Saginaw I made back in the day, just to go to the mall and Target …It's made me a little reminiscent. It's sunny here, still chilly but sunny and pretty. Hope you're having good weather and doing good. Matthew's off to Grand Rapids to visit friends …So I won't be seeing him this weekend. I have to get my brakes fixed. They're grinding. Yikes! It's going to be a bit expensive but Oo well. I hope Primo's still doing good and the other kitties are doing fine. If I don't talk with you later I love you, thinking about you. Bye honey.
Today, 131PM
Hi honey it's Friday I'm just getting out of work going home to change out of my work clothes. Tonight, Kristen's son's getting married so I'm going to that. Of course it's a dry reception, no drinking …Which is just as well since I have to work all weekend, be up at 5, work Monday/Memorial Day and then Tuesday. Can you believe gas is now $4.18! Yesterday, it was $3.99! So that's where most of my time and money is going. There's some kind of deal going on, if you ask me …Isn't that ridiculous? They know it's Memorial Day weekend! Anyway that's barely 2 gallons for $10.00. I'm lucky I can drive to Bay City and back. It's crazy. It's just really crazyQ Anyway honey, take care I'm thinking about you! If I don't talk with you it's because I'm working. I love you! Take care my baby! Bye!
Org. Post: Saturday, June 28, 2008
Just So That You Know That I Know + Then We Can Both Know
Me: I haven't written anything in almost 2 mths.
Nick: You have plenty to write about. No excuses.
Me: I'm sure I might if I had the energy. It just never feels right. I have my ladybug attack on the back burner.
Nick: Haha.
Me: 1500 of those little suckers all wanting me. I was very popular …The catch? I bought them.
Nick: !?
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It's in the works.
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Let's pretend for a moment that tone (yes, tone) wasn't acknowledged within the 19th century + to further this self-imposed land of make believe ...Let's say that the tone button on your radio came about between 1975-1982.
With that thought in mind (1975-1982), it's clear that the need for a tone button was mainly due in part to Michael McDonald's time with the Doobie Brothers.
It's the only way to understanding the first 30 seconds of "Taking It To The Streets".
Me: Michael McDonald ruined the Doobie Brothers.
Nick: The Doobie Brothers ruined the Doobie Brothers.
...You think you know someone after 6 yrs.
Org. Post: Wednesday, July 23, 2008
To The Market: Orange You Glad I Didn’t Say Never?
[Weds., evening-time, phone conversation w/ Mom]
Me: The truth is, Mom, I know 3 people who are battling cancer …Well, one of them it's possible, results will be back next week …When Dianna passed away, in February, you called me at work, I then returned to work …I worked the following day …During her funeral, I was at work. I mean, you called me from the procession …This is the first break I've had to really take all of this in …I hadn't seen Diana in years and now I just have that photo framed on my wall, nothing truly tangible, no sense of closure …
Mom: I know, Mandy …Dianna was very proud of you, sweetheart …And as far as closure, honey, I was there at the funeral and it didn't even seem real enough for closure …You've had a lot on your plate, Mandy …Don't let not being here for Dianna eat away at you. You had a great day today, honey …Dianna was very proud of you.
Me: …Well, when I ran into V, this evening, she started filling me in on her chemo …I didn't even realize my eyes had welled up until she stopped and told me to not get upset …So when you called and asked what was wrong, I was walking back home from talking with V and I couldn't help it.
Mom: You know what I wish you had, Mandy?
Me: What's that?
Mom: Rabbit ears for your TV.
Me: Ok …Mom, I really don't miss television all that much.
Mom: I know but honey, the Olympics are coming up and you would just love it!
Me: The winter Olympics? Mom, I haven't been a fan of the Olympics since I wanted to be a figure skater …And that was in the 4th grade.
Mom: Well, there's this one guy …I forget his name …But he's an amputee …You know, from the knee down, some accident …Well! They're not sure if he can be in the Olympics …He has those curved, long prosthetic legs and boy, he's fast! He could beat anyone with real legs!
Me: ….Well, I can imagine so, Mom? …
Mom: You really don't miss TV?
Me: I really don't …Mom? I love you for this, thank you.
[laughter]
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Weds., 1045AM, Day III of my vacation, pay-day!
Me: [ring work's front door bell]
Russell: [answers door] "Well, if it isn't the lady of substance! Hellllllo!"
Me: Well hello, Russell, how are you? …Psst …You don't see me, ok? I'm still on vacation …Don't hassle me I'm local!
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Yes, I'm off from work for entire week …Since Monday, I've been focusing on the things that have been set aside on my day-dreamy mental checklist of "Things I Wish I Could Do If I had The Time" (Yes, even my mental to-do list of hopes + dreams is in capitals).
On Monday, for instance, I packed a small bag w/ lakefront reading essentials: book (for the reading or for the "I'm Busy Don't Talk With Me" vibe), blanket, water, cell-phone (to keep track of time, of course) …I then stopped by a friend's place who I'm cat-sitting for through Thursday …Followed by a stop at Shan Foods for some amazingly tasty, amazingly cheap Indian-Pakistani take-out (I believe the term is "Indo-Paki" but I fear saying such out-loud) …And off I went.
Three things …
1. It was a beautiful day for the lakefront …I quickly found a grassy knoll with full view of downtown's points of high interest …I also, after a hour or so, glanced over towards a nearby patch of grass and noticed a ladybug. This amused me more than I care to admit.
2. I made the mistake of ordering only one slice of naan with my order of chana pulao …Remedy? I would take the unused lid off from the complimentary yogurt sauce (which I skip) and proceed to use said lid as a shovel from plate to mouth. I did this as inconspicuously as possible. Eureka!
3. Going to the lakefront on a nice afternoon with a pleasantly full stomach sounds great but doing so alone crosses out any chance for a nap. This bummed me out.
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Weds., 11AM
Next on my list? The Green City Market, located on the south end of Lincoln Park …A well-publicized, yearly farmer's market, open 7AM-130PM every Weds. + Sat. I'd never been and had always wanted to go …What better a time to nix that off of my list and revel in my need to take photos of pretty produce …Not to mention the promised joy of watching hoards of people under the illusion of expendable incomes, peck at produce like wild chickens.
Enter my friend Jovan, another Green City Market-newbie. After picking up my paycheck, we met up and made a quick stop at the nearest Jewel grocery for batteries (I needed them for my produce photography, after all).
I Yelped my Jewel experience, here (let this be a lesson): One Star Too Many
With coffee in hand, we were off to the market! After looping around the neighborhood a handful of times in search of parking …We were off to the market! (This little piggy …)
Immediately we were greeted by a tall fellow with a clipboard …"Would you like to help out the environment?" (I hate that question …It's like asking "Would you like to wake up tomorrow?" or "Are you upset with the state of our country's affairs in the Middle East?")
I politely, as much as one could, said (simply) "No, sorry, maybe later." (Insert a sad clipboard)
Jovan and I walked around for a good hour …To be honest, the market wasn't as large as expected but fortunately it wasn't as crowded, either.
I, of course, was attracted to any and all orange hued vegetables + fruits.
Orange Zucchini Seller: Would you like one?
Me: I'll take one, please …I'm a sucker for anything orange!
Orange Zucchini Seller: I wish I had an orange shirt on!
Me: …Ha.
String Bean Seller: Well hello, it's a great day to be at the market!
Me: Yes, it is.
String Bean Seller: Have you ever been here before?
Me: Actually, this is my first time.
String Bean Seller: Well, where do you usually shop?
Me: Ah [crap, ahem], Edgewater Produce [quite proudly, I might add]
String Bean Seller: Oh.
[End of conversation, wordlessly hands me my change]
I had brought along a separate bag, to put our produce in and by the time we left + broke the hearts, yet again, of the environmentalists. Sorry, Earth.
All in all, I spent under $20 and left with:
-1 orange zucchini
-3 orange cucumbers
-a bunch of purple onions (green onion-style)
-broccoli
-sweet cherries
-3 greenish/orange sweet peppers
-fresh basil
-fresh cilantro
-a rather large bunch of Chinese field greens
-Japanese radishes
-1.5 lb green/yellow/purple string beans (What? You expected orange?)
-green tomatoes
Now it's just a matter of deciding how to properly make the best use of my new edibles.
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Me: I went to the Green City Market today + bought 3 orange cucumbers!
Luke: Those aren't cucumbers. Whatever they are don't leave them alone with the cats. And don't feed them after Midnight.
Me: What about the purple green onions? Oo my!
Luke: There's no such thing as purple green. Clearly hallucinogens.
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The rest of the day, Jovan + I treated ourselves to a healthy dose of thrifting, lunched at the Chicago Diner (which has surprisingly good margaritas) and stopped along the to a few shops …We eventually ended back in my neighborhood, outside at the Coffee Studio, high-fiving ourselves for a day well done (and ok, a few pats on the back).
And wouldn't you know, I'm now seated cross-legged at the foot of my bed (that's a lot of appendages) and I'm actually writing.
[moment of silence]
[Ok, another pat on the back]
As for the rest of my "Things I Wish I Could Do If I had The Time" mental to-do list …Well, I need to find a kite …
Org. Post: Wednesday, October 08, 2008
All the News That’s Fit to Print: Sharing is for Suckers
For the first time in recent years, autumn appears to actually be here on time and I for one couldn't be happier (Also for the first time in recent months it appears that I'm writing).
Usually when you make mention of the autumn season, in Chicago, people smirk ("A whole two weeks worth") or jump straight towards their winter season dread. Be it two weeks or two months, I'll take any + all of autumn that I can.
Throughout the summer I refused to pack away my scarf + fuzzy red hat …Instead, they remained on my coat rack + greeted me (bitter sweetly) every time I came home. I've uncovered my slippers that I immediately slip into as soon as I enter my apartment (or like last night, I take them over to Lisa's to slip into as soon as I enter her apartment. My slippers + I were there for dinner). I've already accidentally left my apartment twice without noticing I still had them on.
I kicked autumn off with a complete apartment clean. An overhaul, really. A week long project with no holds barred. Why I had empty tea boxes in my cupboard or socks without a match but with holes, I haven't the slightest. Gone. Gone. Why I felt the need to keep every rent paid receipt from my former apartment (an entire 5 yrs worth) is beyond me. Gone x1000.
I'm waiting for the temps to drop + the city of Chicago to turn on the heat …Mainly because I have taken to tastefully stacking books on my radiators. Since my apartment stays toasty with only my bedroom + bathroom radiators on, I'm waiting for word so that I can take the books that occupy my bedroom's radiator + add them to the one in my living room (which remains off).
The days of humidity are gone once again + my mind is filled with daydreams of large cupped Americanos + leg warmers.
Wednesdays are my days off + within the past couple of autumn weeks I've taken to waking up early and heading over to one of my favorite coffee shops, which luckily is within my neighborhood. Once there I pick up the day's New York Times + the week's new Time Out: Chicago. I order a large Americano (in a large cup, of course) + find a seat in the back where I can browse the latest newsy tidbits + people watch on the sly.
Today, I did just that …Sort of.
The Wednesday edition of the NY Times includes the "Dining Out" section …Along with the Arts + front page sections, I neatly stack all three in front of me like a three course meal that I fully intend to devour …That is after I pick out the business day section.
Seated next to me was a man who I would later describe as looking like Bill Clinton's brother (sans curly mullet but with a young Donald Trump comb over) …I guessed him to be in his early to mid-40s. He was reading the Chicago Tribune's business section .
Light bulb!
Me: "Excuse me, sir …Would you like my NY Times business section?"
Man: "Sure! You're not going to read it?"
Me: "No, I usually toss it but if you'll get some use out of it, it's all yours."
Man: "Well thank you! I'd definitely read it!"
Me: "Well, good. You're welcome."
I started on my first course: the Arts section.
Man: "What sections do you read?"
Me: "Ah, well …The Arts (ahem), Dining Out + the front page."
Man: "Art is good."
Me: "Yes."
I turned the page.
Man: "I usually keep a copy of the Tribune in my bathroom."
Me: "…Oh. That's a …good idea."
This is when I decided to put on my best "I'm involved in a very interesting article: Do not disturb," furrowed brow look. That is to say for the next 5 minutes I read the Angelika Film Center's movie times (Vicky Christina Barcelona at 4:45 …It might take me a little longer to get to Houston + Mercer).
The man next to me started to laugh out loud as he leafed through his newly acquired business day section. I had to hand it to him …You'd be hard-pressed to find someone that would find a recent business article laughable. That aside I didn't take the bait. After 10 minutes of his laughter, the man fell silent. Enough time for me to quickly start in on the Dining Out course ("What's Hot, What's Not In Pots and Pans," I was just dying to know).
One measly paragraph into metallic mille-feuille and heat-conducting alloys, the man next to me decided to overlook my silent "do not disturb" distress signals and continue a conversation that unbeknownst to me we were having.
The stock market. Oo brother.
I continued to look back at my newspaper being sure to throw in the occasional "Oh yeah?" "Umm hmm" and "Ah ha" …Hoping he'd get the clue. Nope. He was halfway through telling me about what he lost in ENRON (don't worry, he sued and won),when he suddenly asked me if I had ever been to Washington DC or the east coast. I commented that yes, I was actually born in New Hampshire. A woman dressed in red and sitting nearby with her laptop piped in.
Woman: "I was born in New Hampshire!"
Me: "Really? I was born in Exeter."
Woman: "Me too! Exeter Hospital!"
Me: "Me too! Do you have a really small birth certificate?"
Woman: "Yes! It's the size of my social security card."
Me: "Mine too!"
Woman: "It's a small world."
(I knew she'd say that)
Me: "Yes it is."
She then launched into some story about trying to get into a show with her New Hampshire license + being given a hard time. She then realized it was an 18+ show. Silly her.
The man seated next to me sat back + took in the woman + I's conversation.
Man: "I think it's real cute that the two of you are from the same city."
…
The woman put her headphones on and I attempted to get back to the toils of Teflon …Secretly wishing I had taken the open chair next to my fellow Exeterite. Too late now.
The man continued to detail his career (something involving two prestigious sounding last names), a story about his "alcoholic" uncle who drives a limo (no punch line needed) throughout Washington DC (meets a lot of senators) and how (the man, not the alcoholic uncle who the family rarely speaks to because he's alcoholic) owns verses rents within the neighborhood and that it's seems to be working out "great" even though he's not one to be "tied down".
It was time to pull out my cell phone and text Luke. Luke + I dated over 4 yrs ago + on/off since (though this entry is not about that. If you've been reading my blog then you're familiar with my Luke/zombies story back in April) Luke is the person that is always there for me in such matters + has played hero more than once. His last heroic endeavor involved us going to see Zohan …in theater.
Me: SOS! Oo crap!
Luke: Is this about plants? Sorry, I like plants.
(I'm trying to get him to adopt two of my plants for the winter season)
Me: I'm seated near a creepy guy. He won't stop talking!
Luke: I am so far away. Tried picking your nose?
Me: It's ok, I figured you were far off. You're still my hero.
Me: "That's the name of the game: fun. Fun is a must. You look like you have fun." LUKE!
Luke: Blushing out loud.
Me: He looks like Bill Clinton's brother. I miss you.
Luke: This is like a transcript of a 911 call. I miss you too.
Me: "I've had the pleasure to be related to many interesting people. Very global. My Mother knows 7 languages."
Luke: Oh, the humanity.
The man seated next to me who I now knew (whether I liked it or not) as Mike seemed to overlook my very obvious texting + general disinterest. He pushed forward into a story about another uncle who died too young + was "way into" cubism.
By this time I continued my texting with Luke + had taken out my fresh copy of Time Out: Chicago. I think this finally tuckered Mike out as he spun tale upon tale laced with colorful adjectives about himself + not so covert attempts to find out more about me. He mumbled something about having to be somewhere, shook my hand + wished me a "joyful day!"
A hour or so more of reading, a second large Americano + after yet another (though much more enjoyable) unsolicited conversation with the effeminate guy who took Mike's former seat next to me. He also turned out to be an adopter from my work + I remembered medicating his cat.
(the conversation started like this:
Guy: "I just quit my freelance job + got an email from my boss wishing me 'good karma,' do you think she's being passive aggressive?"
Me: "Well, what is she usually like?"
Guy: "Oo! The Devil Wears Prada! She's Jewish too."
Me: "Well, tomorrow is Yom Kippur + she's been fasting.")
I decided to head home. As I walked up Clark, my friend Mat texted me.
Mat: "How was coffee? I had phys therapy at 11 so I couldn't make it."
Me: "Coffee was amusing. The stories I could tell you."
Let this be a lesson if you ever find yourself with the business day section. It's better to either go ahead and pretend to read it or toss it (Ok, ok recycle).
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